Grim Reaper
by grumblingFBIspy
Summary: Harry was framed by friends he thought were muggles. He's dragged away like Sirius was, laughing manically. While breaking out a strange event occurs, and now he's part dementor and starts on the dangerous path to an uncertain future. no slash
1. Power

A/N - to all old readers, there are no new chapters here (the next one will be out in a week or so), but i have edited things in most chapters, changing things to make them more realistic, so it's probably best to reread the first four chapters anyway. And this is just to let you know i will be updated fairly frequently now, and to say sorry for the hiatus.

* * *

POWER

The youth lay on the floor. His figure obscured by the dark shadows cast by the cell in which he was imprisoned. His cell was identical to thousands all around him, just another cell in a long corridor. No special markings, nothing to make this cell seem any different from the others. Yet it was, it was so different.

Dementors glided past the corridors, inflicting great agony on those unfortunate enough to be passed. They had however lost feeling years ago, being locked up in the cell tortured from the inside, unable to defend themselves, reliving their worst moments. Rendered insane. All happy thoughts gone. Pain, agony horror, the only feelings that ever graced their long destroyed minds.

None of them lasted more than a few weeks before dying. No, not literally dying, but having their mind ripped to shreds, living torturous lives, knowing only evil. Yes this is the dread prison Azkaban. Known well for destroying criminals but never killing them, forcing them to undergo torture worse than death. No innocent man was even sent here, or so the wizarding world thought. There were only two known breakouts ever.

The first of them was when the _fell_ Sirius Black fled the prison, using unknown methods, and evading _justice _for all of 4 years and three years after his escape, came back to the prison and freed his _fellow_ death eaters. Currently on two of these were still free to wreak havoc upon the wizarding community, Bellatrix Lestrange and Sirius Black.

Little did the pathetic ministry know that Sirius Black had been innocent and had never murdered another soul, after escaping from Azkaban he promptly went to kill the traitor Peter Pettigrew, who the ministry thought was a hero, after cornering Black and being slaughtered by a cruel curse along with 13 muggles. He did not aid the death eaters in any way, but tried his hardest to kill them all, for his nephew Harry.

Harry… Harry and Sirius, the only two people to ever be put in Azkaban unjustly, and made to stay there. Hagrid had also been sentenced to Azkaban twice, but had been released both times, innocent. It one long year after Harry had been betrayed and flung carelessly into Azkaban, forced to relive his parents' brutal deaths, his godfather's death, Cedric's death the betrayal of his friends, his idol, his deceased parents' best friend, everyone. The only people who believed in Harry were dead, long gone, buried under the earth. Harry felt nothing but hate towards all his friends, his _family_. He awoke and brushed his long, tangled locks of hair of his face. His eyes burned a bright and powerful green, they gleamed in the dark, the only thing one could see in his cell, two glaring green globes. So to any aurors passing by the cell, all they would see was a pair of green lights following .

The fools would think that Harry like the other prisoners had gone insane and could not do anything. They expected nothing of him, and his old cell, which always had two dementors stationed outside it, became low key, and dementors rarely visited it. They were scared of it. Yes, the dementors were actually scared of something, the bungling, however, ministry did not pick this up, and let Harry bide his time, building up power.

He was malnourished like all the other prisoners. But that's not from whence his power flowed, no his power was purely mental. If it wasn't for the thick coat of dirt and grime on him, anyone would easily be able to see his bones. His waxy skin than clung to them so tightly. With his gaunt face, cheeks drawn in, he looked nothing more than a skeleton painted brown and rapped in rags. His long hair fell past his shoulders and constantly covered his face. But unlike the other prisoners, he had his sanity intact and perfect. He had practiced occlumency the summer before he was betrayed, he was also acting on the same thing Sirius had, he was innocent and he clung onto that thought whenever there was a doubt, when he relived being tortured by Voldemort, when he relived all the painful moments he ever had.

His occlumeny skills proved to be a gift in disguise, a few months after he was thrown in the hell house, they just kicked in on their own. With this and his innocence, he managed to keep the dementors at bay and save his sanity. Soon, his powers flared up and he managed to actually repel the dementors who were more than pleased when they were allowed to leave his cell.

Harry flexed his fingers and decided that it was time for the fourth breakout from Azkaban to commence. Yes, there had been another breakout, when Barty Crouch Jr. was snuck out of the prison leaving his mother behind to die in his place. With a wave of his hand, the bars of his cell began to twist and spiral, cascading to a point just before his feet. They began to form a definite shape there, twisting and flowing like molten iron. The mould split into two, one forming a distinct sword and the other outlining a staff. Harry smiled, his weapons of choice were almost ready. All he needed was wood to complete his staff. He had been surprised when he had first found wood in the prison. Apparently, there was a torture room in the prison. Now that wood would prove useful.

He smiled, his first true smile in a year. His escape was near. With all his mental power, he summoned the wood from the torture room, and it came, flattening everything in its path. It flowed through the gaping hole in the bars and crashed into the staff's outline. The staff began to take a definite shape, it looked like an old, gnarled stump of wood reinforced by iron. It needed only a core to become magical and suit Harry's purposes.

Harry grinned manically, singing in his heavily fortified mind and two dementors were forced to come near his cell. With a flick of his wrist and the closing of his palm into a tight ball, they imploded, leaving their dirty robes on the floor, and flew into the sword and staff respectively when Harry beckoned. The blade began to glow a fell black, the staff however remained the same. His smile fell a bit, but Harry did not care much, realizing that he needed to more powerful core to truly ignite it, with a savage pleasure he watched as several other dementors were sucked, kicking and pulling into the staff. Still not satisfied, he decided that it was time he used the only other non-human creature in the area as a core.

The vampire lay carelessly in his cell. He had not been forced to live here, he had come of his won will. It was dark, damp, misty and carried with it the stench and decay of the dying, the screams of the tortured. The dementors did not affect him, he was one of the undead, they could suck little out of him. His magic was not as strong as is had been when he was a wizard all those centuries ago, but he was still a powerful magical creature, he could change into a bat at will, he could lurk in the shadows unseen for all eternity and he commanded several animals, beasts of the night.

He never fed on the pitiful humans in the prison, they would not sustain him, and they would also alert the ministry of his presence. He left it once to a month to feed on muggles, no magic diluting their taste, and they would not become vampires when bitten. They did not have magical blood. So he ensured there was no competition. He felt no fear, he had ruled over his domain for centuries, never threatened once, probably why he fell to easily to the calls that summoned him.

He shifted to the shadows and let the calls lure him out of his cell, never realizing as he was drawn closer and closer to another cell. Only grasping his situation when it was too late, when the two green lights broke his will and crushed his mind. Tearing what was left of his soul, and the souls of his victims right out of his physical manifestation. His body vaporized in a matter of milliseconds, and his soul rushed into what seemed like a vacuum.

Harry's pleasure knew no bounds. The only other entity in the area that was somewhere near as strong as he was had fallen so easily. Yes the power he had contained would definitely ignite his staff. Sure enough, when he looked down, the tip of his staff glowed a crimson red, lighting up the dungeons as far as he could see. The staff provided light for only him, the rest of the inhabitants did not know that anything had transpired, just that the prison was suddenly warmer.

With a last look at his surroundings he donned the previously felled dementors cloaks. He transfigured one into a pair of black pants and shoes, another into a full-sleeved shirt that fit him perfectly, its bottom, however, just about touched his kneecaps. Covered in black, he pulled a tattered dementor cloak around him and pulled the hood over his head. He created a sheath on a belt on his pants and carefully placed the blade in it. He grasped the staff firmly in his hands and prepared to leave the desolate hell-hole.

He purposefully strolled out of the prison, destroying the door with a satisfying 'BANG!' and proceeded to meld into the shadows and left his home for a whole year. The only place where he had been on his own, with no human tormenting him, the place where he had imagined the brutal revenge he would have. Soon after he had left the sorry building he thought he heard the winds carry a bloodcurdling scream, "Harry!!!!!!! Harryyyyyyy!" Dismissing it as nerves he went on, struggling to keep his mental barriers intact and stop a flood of memories.

* * *

An ashen faced Dumbledore boarded the boat and set off for Azkaban. The place where for the second time he had imprisoned an innocent man. First Sirius Black, Harry's godfather, and then Harry himself. 14 years were spent by innocents in Azkaban, suffering and risking their sanity for no reason at all. Sirius escaped and was still thought to be a murderer even though he was dead. He sane but with a point to prove, which resulted in his untimely demise, while trying to save his godson, who Dumbledore had thrown to hell not a month after the sacrifice.

The golden boy of the wizarding community, the savior, the one who had escaped Voldemort four times and his past self, Tom Riddle, once. The boy who was prophesized to save the world and rid of filth like Voldemort had been unjustly imprisoned. Dumbledore regretted his mistake to his very core. When he had first heard the news, he had even thought of turning back time and saving the lad, just showing how desperate he was. Two people he had not held trials for, two innocent men sent to hell and tortured. One had forgiven him and died as a result, his final sacrifice counting for nothing in Dumbledore's mind. The other he hoped would forgive him one day if not now.

He had known both of them very well, but both times he had failed to defend them. His mistakes, in not telling Harry certain things that the boy should have known by right, in condemning him and Sirius to jail how enveloped his mind, leaving no space for any other thoughts. He hoped that Harry would come back to Hogwarts, where he could be further trained and hopefully, made to forget the grief of prison and betrayal. The choice lay in the boy's hands, right now he just wanted to free Harry and save him from as much torture as possible.

The oarsman saw two rare tears dropping of Dumbledore's face, grief etched into its very fibers. The moment the boat touched the shores of Azkaban, Dumbledore jumped off and in an act defying his age, ran towards the prison. In his haste he did not realize how much warmer the dread wasteland was, how much more comfortable. He only realized something was amiss when he saw the lack of a door to the prison, splinters lining the surrounding area. Careful now, he trudged silently into the building, his wand clutched tightly in his wrist, ready to blast anything odd into oblivion.

When he finally reached Harry's cell he let out a cry of pure misery, "Harry!!!!!!!, Harryyyyyyyy!" Harry was nowhere to be seen, the bars on his cell ripped up as if a giant had come and ripped them of their bases, breaking it into an unrecognizable mess. Tattered black robes covered the vicinity and wood shavings lined the cell. Completely flabbergasted, Dumbledore stared at the scene in front of him, managing to utter one syllable in a raspy voice, "How….." before falling to his knees and sobbing, pondering the possible outcome of this never before seen event.

* * *

Harry lost the battle to the incessant onslaught of his memories. One by one they crashed into his mind and forced him to fall to his knees, dwelling in his past.

_A flash of green, his mother lay dead. A flash of green, he lost vision and woke up in the hands of people who hated more than he thought possible._

_Getting beaten mercilessly by Dudley. With a black eye and bleeding nose he ventured back to his house, battered and broken. Vernon yelled, "Just who do you think you are boy? Wandering in whenever you want! Getting into fights with a rowdy lot. Who do you think you are? Do you think I'll let you get away with this?" Screaming in pain as blow after blow numbed his back._

_Locked up in a cupboard, biting his lip to keep from screaming as something crawled over his feet. To scared to put on the light to see what it was. Not enough room to try and swat it away. Too scared to leave the cupboard. No one to talk to._

_Screaming and Quirrel grabbed him, clutching his scar and fainting with the pain. _

_Bleeding as the basilisk drove its fang into him._

_Being rejected as people thought he was the one who had opened the Chamber of Secrets._

_Learning of how his parent had been betrayed by their friend, who had also caused his father's best friend to be sent to Azkaban for 13 years. _

_Watching as the Dark Lord rose and clutching the lifeless body of Cedric, whom he had forced to take the cup with him._

_Crying as no one believed him, and labeled him a lunatic. _

_Rejected again as people began to become afraid of him and his claims of seeing the rise of Voldemort. _

_The torture of writing into his own hand and bloodying it._

_Watching Sirius's body as it fell into the veil, the smile never leaving his face, as barely comprehended what had happened to him._

_BETRAYAL!!! BETRAYAL!!!! As his friends condemned him to hell on earth, blamed him and rejected him, leaving him truly alone. _

With that thought, Harry wrenched himself out of the cold grasp of all his painful memories. Pure, white hatred coursed through is body as he remembered the events of the summer, all thought of the unearthly cry erased from his mind.

* * *

_Harry opened his eyes and heard Hedwig chirp in welcome, a grin graced his face. Yes, he was in the Dursley's house, but for the first time he actually enjoyed it. The threat that the Order had issued to the Dursley's had been enough to keep them in check. They never spoke to him, but they did not ask him to do any labour or anything of the sort, he was free in that manner. The only thing that did bother him was the fact that he had witnessed, and in fact, caused his godfather's death. He had been practicing occlumeny to try and get rid of that feeling of overwhelming guilt. He would sit in a classic meditation pose for at least an hour a day. Slowly, the anguish was lifted from his heart, and he began to feel joy once again. _

_In order to commemorate the moment, he had started to exercise and build his body up. He decided that the scrawny, beat-up look was no longer for him. He would jog for an hour a day and then upon reaching a park, he would work out there, this became familiar schedule for him, and he passed him time this way. When the usual invitation from the Weasley's came around midsummer, he politely declined saying he would rather come slightly later. He had begun to enjoy the schedule ad did not want to stop just yet. He was also beginning to make some friends in the park _

_As he was far away from Privet Drive, Dudley's aura did not hang about him and his regular routine, led to him meeting some people. He had become good friends with a boy named Mark and his sister Emily. Both of them practiced a similar schedule and the three often met. They soon become quite close and exercised together. So when the time to leave finally came, he was reluctant to do so. But he also wanted to meet Ron and Hermione, so he decided to just go a week later. _

_That day, while exercising, he told Mark and Emily, that in a week's time he would be leaving Surrey to spend some time with some friends of his before going to boarding school. That day, they talked more than exercise, of where each was from, which school they went to schedules and so on. After a while, Harry realized that he had to go and told them that, a short farewell later, he found himself in his aunt's house, looking over the things that he would take over to the Burrow in a week's time. He gaze fell on his wand and he decided to put it away for safety and to make sure that he did not forget._

_The week passed very fast, and just before they parted for the last time, Mark informed Harry of the fact that they were going to the Ottery St. Catchpole as well_._ Harry was ecstatic at the news, and decided to introduce Ron and Hermione to Mark and Emily in passing, as they did not know that he was a wizard. He packed that night with a happy heart. _

_The next day was uneventful, Mr. Weasley came to pick him up by the Floo network again, and he was soon happy in the Burrow, meeting the entire Weasley clan sans Percy and Hermione. Before he could tell them about his exercise routine and new friends, however, a loud crack was heard somewhere outside the Burrow, and everyone dashed outside to see the cause of the noise. They were stunned when they heard a girl screaming and the top of here voice somewhere in the woods nearby. They ran towards the source of the yelling with Harry in the lead. Harry, being fit from al the exercising, soon left the others behind._

_What he saw caused him to yell as well, Mark was on the ground, covered by a pool of blood, Emily of clutching his wrist and yelling, a mad man with a bloody stump of wood was nearby screaming bloody murder. Harry, quick as lighting, drew his wand and started yelling curses out at a speed to fast to counter. The axe man fell clutching his chest. Emily, promptly stopped yelling and with a smirk that put Snape to shame, took out a wand and stunned the astonished Harry, before he had any time to react. _

_Harry eyes flew open and he jumped to his feet, looking all over the room he was now in, searching for Emily or Mark. What he did see, however, was an enraged Dumbledore, and a shell-shocked Weasely clan and a bundle o brown hair staring daggers at him. The next thing he knew he was being told and off and accused of murdering 3 innocents, all muggles. His wand was checked and it last few spells were all dark in nature, designed to cause immense pain to recipient and in the case of the last curse, kill the recipient. Before he had the opportunity to say anything, he was assaulted with a barrage of insults, and general statements aimed at hurting him. _

"_Harry, you have are going to be sentenced to Azkaban without any trial for life. For the murder of three innocent, defenseless muggles and the use of unforgivables. Do you have anything to say for yourself?" Dumbledore asked, barely concealing his fury. _

_Harry thought back to the said instance, and realized quite suddenly that he had been put on. Mark and Emily had either never been there, or they were disguised death eaters from the beginning. Glancing around the room he realized that no one here held any sympathy for him, they all thought him guilty of murder. BETRAYED! The word flashed in his mind over and over again. By old friends, by supposed family, by new friends, he hated them all. Harry let out a harsh, dry chuckle that echoed over the room, the laugh grew in volume and coldness until it covered them all. The bitter laugh penetrated their very souls, they took it as another sign of madness and he was thrown in Azkaban the next day, leaving him enough time to read the next day's Prophet and receive mail from a certain select few people. All of them flooded with hate. The world declared him a murderer. Lupin called him an insult to everyone he ever met. Hagrid's was the only sympathetic mail, be it brief._

'_Harry I know ya never did nothin', but when the world turns against ya there's nothing ya can do. Rest assured, I'll never talk to Ron or Hermione again. Remember, this happened to me as well. I'll try to clear you name, bye' _

_Harry never said a word, read his mail quietly and left with them when he was asked to, laughing insanely upon reaching Azkaban again. Fury had consumed his entire being, and he knew nothing but revenge._


	2. Glowing Orbs of Power

Chapter 2 – Glowing orbs of Power 

BOY-WHO-LIVED ESCAPES AZKABAN!!

_The Daily Prophet can exclusively reveal that yes, after just one year in Azkaban, Harry Potter, the boy-who-lived broke out of prison, in the most obtrusive fashion yet. But the drama doesn't end here, the boy-who-lived was innocent! He never murdered a single soul in his blessed life. The Ministry in their haste to exact justice threw him into Azkaban without a trial. Now it seems they will regret another bad decision. _

_Two death-eaters were apprehended recently, their names have been kept anonymous. thanks to the efforts of Kingsley Shacklebot and Remus Lupin, who has recently been inducted into the auror's ranks, an atrocity in itself, given the fact that Lupin is a werewolf. In the mandatory questioning under the effect of veristarserum, they plead guilty to the heinous murder of the half-giant Ruebus Hagrid around two months ago, and the framing of Potter after the murder of three muggles. They used the polyjuice potion to become two muggle children, who had apparently become friends with Potter over the summer and a muggle man. They staged a drama near the Burrow, the abode of the Weasleys, and in the process caused the incarceration of Potter - The Chosen One._

_Albus Dumbledore, soon after receiving the knowledge of Potter's innocence sped towards Azkaban, wasting no time at all. Upon reaching the dread Azkaban, he realized something was amiss, the formerly massive door that guarded the prison was in ruins, a gaping hole through it center._

_After gingerly stepping past the door, Dumbledore proceeded towards Potter's cell, wanting to free the golden boy as soon as possible. What he saw at Potter's cell stunned even him into submission – the cell was empty, the only proof that Harry Potter had ever been there were the mangled remains of the iron bar, a few wooden shaving on the floor and several tattered black robes._

_On further investigation, the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge was stunned when he told the Daily Prophet that five dementors were missing and unaccounted for. The cloaks on the floor were later identified as being the remains of the dementors. How the boy-who-lived managed to do this is not known, as are his whereabouts. He did leave a message behind though, somehow. Inscribed on the wall was, 'So bloody easy', the objective was pretty obvious, to spite the ministry._

_Indecision is racing through Ministry ranks however, as rumours about he-who-must-not-be-named attacking the prison and abducting Harry Potter flourish. _

_Dumbledore asked the Daily Prophet to send this message out for him, "Harry, if you read this, just know that we are all extremely sorry for what we did and wish you to come back as soon as possible. Please come back."_

Harry's eyes gleamed as he read the paper clutched in his hands. 'Ah, yes. Revenge will be easy now.' Harry thought. He stood in the same cave Sirius had hid in when he had just escaped, Harry had thought it fitting that he stay there as well.

The dementor's cloak he had wrapped around him had proven to be very useful. Not only did all wizards keep away form him, thinking he was a dementor, muggles could not see him.

The cloaks were actually part of the dementors themselves, it was their only physical manifestation. Without it, they were just so much hate and souls. They were wraiths that could suck up happiness, the cloak just gave them a physical form and the fear of all mortals. They were visible to wizards only, so to muggles they, just like ghosts, were invisible. He could also use the dementors souls trapped within his staff and sword to suck the happiness out of the air, so to wizards it seemed as if though he were a rogue dementor, and swiftly sent word to the Ministry, who as expected, did nothing.

Harry wrapped the cloak around himself and obscured his face using the hood. He clutched his staff tightly, and then shrunk it to the size of a wand. He did not want to arouse the suspicions of any muggle or wizard with the stray piece of wood. He tucked the staff carefully into his pocket. He prepared to leave, and once again, cast a last look at the place that had housed him, with no traitors to attack him.

He was going back to Hogwarts!! He wanted to give himself a definite location, so Voldemort would not waste his forces searching for him. He wanted to make it clear to the world that he was not turning dark. It would also be so much easier to exact his revenge if he was close to his traitorous friends.

Why didn't he want Voldemort to waste his forces? Simple, Voldemort had being laying low of late, and the ministry was beginning to ignore him again, something he definitely did not want. He did not care how much pain Voldemort inflicted upon the wizarding masses, they had done the same to him, they had betrayed him. They deserved all the pain they would no doubt face.

He wasn't going to make it easy on Dumbledore either though, he was going to 'fight for his rights' every bit of the way, making life as miserable as he possibly could for the old fart.

* * *

The office was silent, only the soft sob ever breaking the penetrating silence. Dumbledore sat in his chair, Fawkes perched on his shoulder, grim as grim could be. The news had not gone down very well with the public, there had been riots and several ministry buildings had been razed before the public could be calmed down. The ministry had to call in aurors. Harry had escaped, his message still engraved deep within his mind, never leaving it. He was now only god knew where, possibly in the hands of death eaters.

This was something that bothered Dumbledore more than anything else. There was no way the Harry he knew could have twisted the bars like that, there was no way he could have left such a path of destruction. He had no wand, he was in the hands of the dementors, reliving his worst memories, he was supposed to be weak. Yet somehow, he had slain five dementors, things that as far as the wizarding world knew, could not be killed. He had ripped apart cast iron bars and broken through a magically reinforced metal door. Then against all the odds he had disappeared without a trace.

Dumbledore suspected foul play and thought Voldemort had been involved in one way or another. It was all too convenient. Voldemort had carefully removed Harry from the wizarding world, and hence removed his only threat. Then right after two death eaters had been caught, Harry disappears from Azkaban, with the words, 'So bloody easy' permanently framed on the wall. He didn't know if Harry had gone of his own will or if he had been kidnapped. For the sake of himself, Harry and the rest of the wizarding world, he hoped Harry had been kidnapped. Selfish though it might sound, the alternative was too bleak to conisder. If Harry, craving revenge, stood by the side of Voldemort, the English wizarding community would fall in a matter of weeks. It would also be an insult to his parents, Sirius, Hagrid and himself if he did turn to the other side. Last of all, every one on the light side would also know why he had left, not because he had wanted to, but because he had been forced to, alienated from the world, persecuted, and tortured, he had fled to a secure place, seemingly the only sensible place to go to.

He let out a deep sigh and clutched his hands together in what seemed like prayer. The door flew open and a mass of brown and red hair flew into his office barraging him with questions.

"He was innocent Professor?"

"Dumbledore, was the Prophet telling the truth?"

"Does he-who-must-not-be-named have him?"

"Why?"

"How?" and several others. The entire Weasley clan and Hermione had flown into the room soon after reading the article. Dumbledore threw his hands up in the air but softly said, "Please calm down, all will be cleared."

* * *

A dementor glided up to a castle. The enormous structure loomed over it, steadily growing. Normally a person would be awed by the sight, but the dementor, being nothing but a wraith, was not. It was on strict business and could not bother to waste time loitering about, so it did not rest long at the gate. With a gesture of its hand, and a loud grating noise, the gates began to slide apart.

The dementor casually looked around and slid inside, and with a gesture, the gate slammed shut behind it. Suddenly, the dementor stopped dead, it looked all around the fields and the door that would lead it to Hogwarts. It had reached. Harry lowered his hood and smirked, time to initiate his revenge. Thinking about the entire scenario once more, he wondered if he actually wanted to meet the traitors. He could leave now and never return. There was nothing for him in this world. He did not give a hoot about any damage Voldemort could and would cause to the wizards, they had betrayed him. And being the cowards they were, pushed the blame onto someone else as soon as they realized their error.

He shook his head and decided to follow his original plan. It would cause great distress to his former friends, and he would find new ones, people he was sure would stand beside him no matter what. If he was a murderer, a saint or a thief, whatever he chose, he knew the type of people who would remain true to him, and they resided in the halls in front of him. His mind made up, he pulled the hood back up and masked his face. Anyone who had the misfortune to look upon him would think he was a dementor on the loose, albeit, one with powerful green eyes.

He raised his hand and, just like he had done with the entrance to Azkaban, blew the doors in front of him apart. He glided over the ruins and made his way towards Dumbledore's office. He had some things he had to sort out with that naïve old fool.

* * *

Dumbledore slowly related his tale. The interrogation, the ruins at Azkaban and finally his thoughts on Harry's current whereabouts. He spoke, blissfully unaware of the fact that a smirking Harry was right outside his door, listening to every word said.

Every one in the room was flabbergasted at the news they had just heard. Their worst fears had come true. They had imprisoned an innocent boy, never giving him a chance to prove himself. The boy who was supposed to save them, the boy who had trusted them with his whole soul, the boy who would have died for them. What had they done in return for all the things he had done for them, the times he had saved them.

17 years ago when he had stopped Voldemort's reign, losing his parents in the fight. In reward, he had been sent to the Dursleys and spent his first 10 years in hell, treated like a servant who did not deserve to live. 10 years later when he had once again fought Voldemort and kept him at bay, stopping him from getting the Philosophers stone and becoming immortal. Not to mention saving Hermione from a troll. In return, the next year the whole world thought him to be the heir of Salazar Slytherin and the man who opened the chamber if secrets. What did he do? He promptly went on to save Ginny from the clutches of Tom Riddle and a basilisk, and seal the Chamber of Secrets. The next year, he once again proved his character by not allowing Sirius to kill the man he was imprisoned for killing. To thank him, they called him a fraud the next year, they blamed him of putting himself in the Triwizard tournament, putting himself in jeopardy and casting the name of the tournament in shame. So he again fought Voldemort and escaped, this time bearing the body of Cedric Diggory, he did not let the death eaters disrespect his body. So the next year, the world thought he was a liar, a lunatic, and the ministry made his life miserable and tried their utmost to get him expelled. Then, as soon as he heard of Sirius' apparent torture he rushed to the rescue, throwing all caution to the wind in order to save his godfather. Sirius had not been there, but he came to save Harry, interestingly enough, and died as a consequence. So after all Harry had been through, they decided to throw him in Azkaban without a care in the world as to the fact that he was innocent.

Altogether, they were surprised he had not thought them traitors earlier and left. Now they were almost certain that he had indeed decided that they were turncoats and would never forgive them. They were sure that he had joined the dark side. Once again casting judgment on the boy, bringing his name into disrepute. Altogether, it was a good ting that Harry had shown up, otherwise they might have thrown him into Azkaban on sight, again. Scared he was a death eater. Harry wouldn't have been affected, he could just leave Azkaban on whim, but then they would be forced to face the wrath of a thoroughly pissed off Harry.

"So he had been innocent all along? We betrayed him?" Hermione choked out, her face a mask of its former self, covered in tears with bloodshot eyes. Her conscience bore down on her, weighing her down, restricting thoughts and actions. Her emotions were shared by everyone else in the room. All of them were so preoccupied with their emotions, that they did not notice the door slowly open, without a whisper. They did not notice as the temperature in the room dropped drastically, as they began to wallow in their worst memories. The dementor with shining green eyes remained hidden from their vision so clouded with tears.

Harry grinned at the long silence, more than happy to let them drown in their misery. But he realized that this was the best possible time for him to sneak up on them, showing them just how powerful he could be. Taking out his staff he deftly altered his appearance, his hands were now cold and clammy, they shone a dull, all-consuming black. Decayed nails jutted out of the tip of each finger, ending in a sharp point. He cast greater shadows upon his face, disguising it from all, it just looked like there was an endless black void inside his dementor's hood. Using all the stealth he possessed, he slowly opened the door, careful not to catch anyone's attention.

Ginny was completely lost to her emotions. She had been rescued from Harry, saved from certain death, yet all she had done to return the favor, was give the boy the cold back and shove him into Azkaban. The poor soul was now lost to the world, and for all she knew being tortured by Voldemort, she refused to believe that she had willingly given himself over to the dark side. Fine change that was, from being tortured by the memories of his parents death, he was being tortured by his parents murderer. She was snapped out of her thoughts as two cold, cold hands gripped her face and pulled it upwards.

Suddenly, all the horrid memories she had ever had in her life joined the fray, and her consciousness fought a losing battle against it. Her body was lost to the all-consuming cold, she did not scream as the skeletal hands drew her closer and closer to a rasping mouth, from whence all the cold came, preparing to suck her soul out, leaving her a mere shell.

Everyone in the room suddenly became aware of the presence of another being in the room. They glanced upwards to explore the room, searching for the stranger who had imparted an odd chill to the room, a backwash of forgettable memories. What they saw completely stunned them, a dementor had taken a hold of Ginny and was about to perform the Dementor's Kiss on her, getting ready to suck her soul right out of her body.

As one, three voice yelled, "_Expecto Patronum_!". There was a flash of silver as three animals roared out of three wands, belonging to Dumbledore, Hermione and Ron. As one the gleaming phoenix, otter and rat converged upon the dementor. The dementor was completely surrounded by white and silver, its every move was invisible to those outside the sphere. The sphere slowly began to shrink, until the top of the dementor's hood was visible. The dementor seemed to be absorbing the patronuses! In a few seconds the patronuses had disappeared, and the dementor still stood powerful and strong. With a crack, a burst of black was expelled from the dementor, separated into three parts and went flying back to the wands that had cast them. Upon reaching the wands, they traveled up the wand, and into the person, resulting in Dumbledore, Hermione and Ron to land rather ungracefully on their behinds before collapsing into a heap on the floor. A sharp, dry chuckle seemed to emanate from the Dementor, who had left Ginny alone. She lay, curled up into a ball on the floor, but with her soul visibly intact, one could make out just by looking at her.

The three slowly began to raise themselves from the ground, Dumbledore first, Ron second and Hermione last. When they staggered to their feet, they grabbed the closest inanimate object near them and hung on for dear life. Not a single sound came from those present in the room. They were stunned more than they had thought possible. Three very powerful patronuses, including one cast by the most powerful wizard in the world, had failed to faze this dementor who stood haughtily looking all of them up and down. They were stunned, hell, even a human should have been floored by those charms, and rendered unconscious for some time at least. But the creature that they should affect the most seemed unaffected.

"How?" Dumbledore managed to choke out, his face expressing a thousand emotions at once, yet not revealing a single emotion, he quivered with the aftermath of the blow he had been dealt. Whilst staring at the dementor, he discovered something quite extraordinary, instead of having a pure black gap under the hood, two emerald lights glared out at him. Dementors aren't supposed to have eyes, especially not green ones – glowing orbs of power. Hermione, being the bookworm she was, soon informed the rest of the wizards that dementors, quite simply, did not have any visible eyes.

"Tut, tut, tut. Just the Granger I used to know. So busy to show off, that she forgets that she and the rest of the people upon whom she tried to impart knowledge, are in mortal danger.

"I'm sure that the last thing the want to know before they die is that they are being killed by something that should not exist…" A raspy voice stated rather harshly.

Everyone's attention was already on the dementor, so they realized that the source of the voice was the dementor. "Oh, and I'm sure that Granger will now inform you in her know-it-all voice, that dementors are not supposed to be able to talk. Well guess what, Granger, I am, so try to explain that to all of them. I'm sure they're dying to know." Harry's voice was thickly laced with sarcasm, cutting of Hermione before she could say anything. "It was good to she that all she is, is just a bookworm, she has no power of her own. All she can do, is read, read and boast. Oh, and lets not forget betray, and let her friends rot in hell for as long as possible." Hermione broke down into tears at this point. Harry smirked, realizing he had hit home with her and decided it was time to move on to another.

"Weasel, Weasley, weasel. Always thought you'd have something in common with a rat, after all you housed one for so long. The same rat, if I remember, that carried the person Black was supposed to have killed. The same person who caused the rebirth of the dark lord. Must have given you a sense of intense pleasure that, carrying someone so important. The same person who caused Potter so much despair, yes, you'd have, loved sheltering that traitor wouldn't you? After all people of the same kin stick together, and as you proved with your patronus, you're not far from being a rat yourself." Ron's face went from pale to paler to suddenly, a surprisingly bright shade of red, before he joined Hermione and burst into a fit of sobs, face clutched tightly in his hands. Harry decided he had procrastinated enough, and did not want to waste time crushing each one of them, snuffing their happiness out like a flickering candle. He went straight to the finale, the final blow as the dementor.

"Ah yes, remembering the poor soul you threw in Azkaban? Remembering what you did to him before he was sent to Azkaban? Have you seen what he has become now? Have you seen the filth that covers his entirety? WELL SEE NOW!" Harry threw his hood off as he roared the final sentence out, rage so clearly present in each syllable. Revenge displayed openly on his formerly expressive eyes. His hands were back to their old selves, thought not much better than the dementor form. The only difference was tat they were a pale drown, not black, they soon retreated into his sleeves.

Silence consumed the room, the penetrating silence reached the bone, there was no noise to be heard anywhere. The traitors looked up at what Harry had become. His tangled hair ran wild and free behind and in front of his face. His eyes had sunk in, his cheekbones jutted out, as the waxy skin clung so tightly to his face, lost in his robes. Dirt covered his face, hiding the once handsome features. His sunken eyes were the only thing that captured their attention, making them lose themselves in it. The power that they radiated held them all in place. That is of course, until Dumbledore gasped, his eyebrows lost in his hair, eyes as wide as saucers, heart barely beating any more, "Harry…"

One word dominated all their thoughts, summed up best by Dumbledore – Harry…


	3. Grim Reaper

CHAPTER 3 – Grim Reaper 

The man sketched three faces into a broken page in a tattered old notebook, as he swore he found find them no matter what. He had long forgotten the names, a year of torture could do that to anybody.

All three faces were those of men. One had long flowing hair, a sharp crooked nose, and a mouth shrouded in a massive beard. What most captured a person's attention, was however, his eyes, even in the rough sketch, they seemed to shine with power. Another had a very round face, devoid of any hair. He wore a bowler hat that tucked up his cropped short hair. The man's very face radiated idiocy. The last face was the most striking. His eyes seemed to shine with power as well, deep within the darkness they contained. His hair was matted, tangled and was just about everywhere. He seemed to be developing a beard, the stubble could clearly be made out on his face. His face was gaunt and devoid of all emotion. His eyes were sunken in, giving the impression that the man had been to hell and tortured mercilessly there.

The man, slowly and carefully tucked the tattered notebook in his rags, and stared past the bars, waiting for the measly rations he would soon receive. A dementor swept over to his cell and shoved a miniscule portion of bread and some water throw the bars and glided off, doing the same with the other cells. The man allowed a small smile to form on his face but quickly crushed it, as dementors swept towards his cell. Azkaban had become much warmer and he had slowly regained his sanity of late. After Harry's breakout the place had become much more cheerful, but was still hell. In one of the many investigations that occurred after Harry's mysterious disappearance, a small, frayed book managed to find its way to him. He had kept it, not knowing what it was.

As the hours passed, his sanity began to return, and he realized what he had, and his happiness swelled to unprecedented heights, since his stay in Azkaban anyway. He still remembered the incident.

_He suddenly felt warmer, not knowing what it was, he shrunk into a corner of his cell, thinking some devilish torture was in store for him. He was surprised as happy thoughts began to grow in his mind. He remembered how he was innocent, falsely accused and thrown in Azkaban without a trial. After Harry's capture, trials became rare and many were flung into hell without ever verifying facts. _

_He remembered a dementor sweeping past him, a staff clutched in its right hand. It walked up to the entrance and suddenly the door imploded and the dementor went out without a glance backwards. Soon after, an old man had stumbled in, hurrying past his cell without sparing a glance at the poor, withering soul he had condemned to hell on earth._

_Soon after, wave after wave of aurors flooded the prison, dementors were banished from the prison for some time, and a book found its way to the innocent's cell._

The man quickly devoured his food, greedily stuffing it into his mouth, as though it would disappear were it not eaten soon. He did not notice as an auror stopped by his cell. Did not hear the jeering comments he passed. Did not realize that he was infuriating the man. Did not feel the piercing chill as dementors converged near his cell. Did not hear the auror yelling at the dementors, calling them pathetic mistakes, did not feel the blinding silver light that lit up the prison. He only looked up in time to see the auror getting kissed rather roughly by the dementor.

* * *

"Harry…" Dumbledore trailed off, realizing that the Boy-who-lived was standing in front of him, perfectly disguised as a dementor. He had somehow managed to fool them all into thinking he was a dementor, and he had made the room chillingly cold, he had absorbed three patronuses and flung them back at the casters. This was not the man he had expected, a broken shell, quivering heap. This man had true power.

"Oh yes, very sad **now** aren't you? Wondering why I didn't forgive you immediately, and begin life as I had left it... no wait... as you had forced me to leave it? Well I'm not the trusting little lad I used to be, following you about wherever you went, forgiving every mistake you made and idolizing you. A year in hell can do that to a person you know," Harry's lips curled into a sneer. "But you obviously knew that when you sent me to Azkaban, so I don't need to tell you how bad it was."

Hermione seized the momentary pause and sprinted towards Harry, intending to hug him with all her might. No one expected what happened next. Without so much as a glance towards her, she was stopped, suddenly and roughly. Then before anyone could do anything, she was flung back and fell onto her chair, hard. She collapsed onto the ground, seeming to flow of her chair and lay there in a heap.

Harry turned around and looked at the pile now lying on the floor and smirked, "Oops…", his voice was dripping with sarcasm.

"Harry! What do you think you're doing? We're your friends, remember?" Ron yelled from his seat, seemingly recovered.

"Friends?" Harry's eyes narrowed, his mouth drew into a thin line, and his voice became deathly cold. "I have no friends, nor have I ever had any, apart from Hagrid, who now, is conveniently dead. All I had were a bunch of parasites, feeding of me and my cursed popularity. No one would willingly let their friend go to Azkaban, let alone send them to Azkaban cursing them." Harry raised his hands high up and brought them down sharply, Ron collapsed, his head lolling about.

"Harry!" Dumbledore bellowed, his face white with rage.

"What? You're nothing but a senile old fool, you hold no power over me anymore. The first four letter of your surname sum you up best, Dumb. That's all you are. You called me and I came. How did you greet me, by plotting behind my back. You called me a deatheater, you called me scum! Then I walk into the room and you send your strongest patronus at me. Hardly the welcome a returning hero would expect." The dementor's hood flew back up and clothed Harry's face in shadow, leaving only his powerful eyes visible.

"Harry, I'm sorry about what we did, but the evidence at the time was most incriminating, we had no choice but to believe it. On another note, now that you're here, and taking other factors into consideration, I'm sorry to say but you are obliged to take veristarseum…" Dumbledore said softly, after a few minutes, during which he had obviously been concealing his surprise.

Harry had been about to start with his tirade and humble the old fart when he felt something tugging at his mind. Harry's mind began to race, his occlumency was at such an advanced state that he had had no visions for a very long time. He thought that he had severed his connection with Voldemort. Surprised, Harry delved deeper into the odd prickling in the back of his head. He found the source and attacked it, ripping a hole into it and proceeding to deftly enter the hole.

Suddenly he saw an auror... he had not expected that. Oddly, enough the auror was yelling at him., something about being pathetic. That ruled his being in Voldemort out, so he pondered other possibilities. On closer inspection, he realized that he new said auror. This had been the fool who had flung him into his cell, the fool who had relentlessly patrolled the prison. Harry felt an intense rage in him, he felt like ripping the man apart, he felt like raising his hand and striking the man. Suddenly, he saw his hand flying up and colliding with the auror's head, stunning both him and the auror. 'How did I do that? I've never been able to control Voldemort like this,' Harry thought.

The auror reacted first and drew his wand yelling, "_Expecto Patronum_!" A lion flew out of his and charged Harry who stood his ground and felt the force of happiness hit him. Harry felt himself absorb it, relishing the positive thoughts, sucking them out of the auror. Harry grinned and tried his old trick again, he corrupted the energy pouring into him, turning to black hate and flung it back at the auror. The result wasn't as powerful as when he himself had done it, but it still sent the auror to the floor on his knees. In the spur of the moment, Harry grinned and grabbed the man's face roughly and jerked it towards his own. Completely lost in the moment, he kissed the man, sucking his soul out, he felt the power course through his body, the positive thoughts quickly going to his limbs, giving them vital energy. He had fed, he did not need to feed for a very long time now.

After the kiss was completed, Harry was stunned by what he saw. He saw a wraith like body lying in front of him, forcing him to believe what he did not want to. He could not believe that he had willingly destroyed this man and relished doing it. Horror coursed through his body, he had willingly taken the life of a human. Slowly he digested what he thought just before realization, he remembered thinking he was fed, that he didn't need food for a long time. But he hadn't eaten in quite awhile, this was odd. Shrugging he decided to see how far he could control this dementor. So he looked over the place, remembering his stay here, in the dread Azkaban.

As he looked over the prisoners, he could feel their emotions rage through them, their happiest moments ever, their most terrible moments, their deepest secrets, but more importantly, he could, somehow, feel their guilt. Whenever he looked at a person, the first thought that crossed his mind was 'guilty', and then the incident which led to said person's imprisonment. As he continued to look over the people he was stunned when he saw one glaring irregularity. One man seemed to scream 'INNOCENT!' The man in question was staring at him with a lot more sanity than Harry could have expected. As he looked at the man and his memories, Harry was stunned. "You were sent here too? Innocent as well. Good, good, this fits in just perfectly…" Harry whispered, watching the boy's head jerk upwards. He left an order imprinted in the dementors soul and broke the connection, entering Dumbledore's office again.

Just as the connection was breaking, however, he felt a torrent of thoughts storming into his mind, before he could wrestle back control of his mind the surge disappeared as soon as it came. The entire incident then completely vanished from Harry's mind, and he spent a few befuddled moments wondering what happened, and why he suddenly felt different.

* * *

Dumbledore stared at Harry, wondering why the boy wasn't responding, he had expected the boy to yell his lungs out at him. When Harry had opened his mouth but not responded, he had felt a surge of hope, thinking that Harry was considering it. Suddenly Harry's eyes dulled, they became a very dark green and eventually they just went out all together. Dumbledore's trepidation slowly evaporated, replaced by genuine concern, he was scared about the condition of Harry's mental health. Suddenly the boy seemed to exude power, it was as if he was made of it. Dumbledore blinked, not believing what he was seeing. He rubbed his eyes and stared at the boy again.

With the knowledge he had, he assumed that Harry had entered a trance, that didn't surprise him, people of great power could easily do that. What concerned him was the amount of power he sensed in Harry, it was unnatural, there was no way one person could have so much power. He looked around, the others, while they did not exactly what they were seeing, were nonetheless awed by the display of power they were witness to. Dumbledore once again wondered what had happened to Harry, and if he was in Voldemort's power or not, as he seemed quite sane. One thought did flare up in his mind though, the fact that Harry might very well have escaped, as he had so much power.

"Headmaster, do you think that Harry is summoning something?" Hermione's voice called, clear and sharp if somewhat weak, she had just gotten up and was stunned by the scene in front of her. Dumbledore's head snapped towards her, dawning comprehension recorded on his face, followed by immense fear. He realized that that might indeed be the case, if Harry was summoning something, he could definitely retain such power in the air around him, the very thought gave Dumbledore shivers, and that merely scared him further, as he **never **shivered with fear.

All thoughts were set aside as Harry's eyes snapped open and regained their bright green colour. His magical power seemed to dwindle and he looked around the room, staring at the looks of awe of all their faces.

* * *

The man looked up in time to see the auror getting kissed rather roughly by the dementor. The man continued to stare at the dementor. This was unexpected. Dementors did not kiss Ministry officials, or anyone else for that matter without the permission of the Ministry. Thoughts raced through his mind as he stared at the rogue dementor. He thought that it had severed all bonds with the Ministry and their magic and was now going on a feeding frenzy. Terrified he continued to look at the dementor, as it slowly peered around the prison.

"You were sent here too? Innocent as well. Good, good, this fits in just perfectly…" A dry, soft and rough voice emanated from the dementor. By now, the man was beyond all coherent thought, how could a dementor talk? They were intelligent definitely, but not that intelligent! Not to mention the fact that it was physically impossible for them to be able speak. He sat petrified as the dementor approached him and unlocked his cell. Fearing his life was at its end, he closed his eyes and began to pray.

Suddenly the words of the dementor stood out in his mind, it knew he was innocent! He might not die, but then again, why would the dementor care if he was innocent or not? It just cared about leeching all happiness from him. He felt a bony, cold hand grab his and forcefully pull him out of the cell. Expecting to die, and deciding to die with pride, a feeling that he rarely associated with himself, he opened his eyes and stumbled to his feet, staring defiantly and in vain at the being that held his life in its hands. Surprisingly, it did not kiss him, but using a finger, beckoned to him, seemingly asking him to follow it. After looking the man up and down, it deemed the man strong enough to support himself and slowly glided out the cage after beckoning to the man again.

Stunned, the man followed the dementor, stumbling, as it led him to the newly constructed entrance of Azkaban, with a wave of its hand, the door sprung open, and they passed without stopping. When they reached the edge of the water the dementor summoned a boat and with a bit of exertion, attacked the man with its cold power. Under the unexpected onslaught, the man fell forwards, and collapsed onto the both, which took off a moment later as the dementor glided over it.

They got off the boat and walked for around an hour, during which they did not cover too much distance, as the man was still weak from a year of malnourishment and lack of exercise. After the hour, they reached a massive tree, that towered up as far as the eye could see, it was perfectly round all the way, apart from a hole, at the base of the tree, that appeared tiny when compared to the tree's bulk. The dementor slid in without a thought. The man was suddenly struck by a memory, he remembered this place, he had been here sometime in his life. Fortified by the memories, he trudged into the gap without a word. There was a ladder at the bottom of the tree, which he knew he had to go down on, he could already see the dementor gliding down.

He was vastly disappointed when he got down, all he saw was a vast empty cavern. He remembered a lush room, filled with all the amenities he would ever need, and considering his upbringing, that was a lot. He suddenly realized that he may have descended a tree which was only similar to the one he knew, and that he had been lulled into captivity. He quickly banished the thought, realizing that he never had a choice , the dementor had absolute power over him. The next thought that entered his mind dealt with his mysterious saviour, or mysterious new torturer, and wondered exactly why he had been brought to this inconspicuous cavern.

"So many reasons. You are innocent." A raspy voice behind him informed of the presence of another. He gasped as he looked at the gaunt face, the stony, sunken in emerald eyes looking stonily back at him.

"You…" was the only word the boy could muster before collapsing.

* * *

Harry opened his eyes and looked around the room. Everyone was staring at him with unmistakable awe on their faces, a few of them even looked terrified, namely Bill, Hermione and Dumbledore. Suddenly he felt an annoying sensation inside his head. Wondering what he might discover this time, Harry plunged into his mind once again and was enraged when he found out the source of the disturbance. He sensed Dumbledore's aura trying to enter his mind, it looked like a rat with a chisel trying to bring down the Great Wall of China. He smirked at decided to add to the confusion by sending out the mental equivalent of cats. Sure enough, his powers flew towards Dumbledore,and before the rat could react, he was getting assaulted. Harry could feel himself tearing through the man's mind, almost rendering him insane. Harry stopped before he could though, after all, how could anyone exact revenge of a retarded old cook?

Deciding that Dumbledore's actions had earned him the right to do as he wished, he began to attack Dumbledore's mind again, this time searching for a way in. He was surprised at how easy it was, it was like brushing a fly aside, and soon he was inside Dumbeldore's mind going through his thoughts at will. The rage and despair he had felt when Harry was sent to Azkaban, the betrayal, the grief at discovering he was innocent, the pain at his stubbornness, and finally the concern for his well-being. He smirked as he felt the emotions flow through his body, he knew the horror that was beginning to seep through Dumbledore's body. He was surprised when he found out that Dumbledore was actually serious about the veristarserum, he actually thought that Harry could be a deatheater. Harry also sensed a different thought in the old man's mind, doubt. He was wondering if Harry really was a deatheater, after all, he displayed such power.

Grinning, he imprinted a fact in Dumbeldore's mind, the fact that Harry was not a deatheater and would be coming back to Hogwarts for his seventh year, along with a little surprise. Smirking, knowing Dumbledore would never know where he got that information from, Harry quickly exited his mind. Looking around he decided he had done his job well enough and did not need to stay any longer. For effect's sake, he enlarged his staff and placed an illusion on it, looking for all the world a grim reaper, as his staff now resembles a scythe, with a wicked blade jutting out of the top. Professor Sinistra chose the exact moment to walk in and fainted, yelling, "Grim Reaper!". Shaking his head, Harry raised his staff to clear a path, and quickly glided out of it.

After leaving the castle, he swiftly turned around and began muttering in an ancient language, his voice became dry and throaty. After a minute of chanting, he raised his staff and brought it down, slamming it on the ground. He opened his eyes in time to see all his former friends sprinting towards the door. They just about reached it in time to get hit, hard, by the door slamming shut. Dumbledore who was in the lead flew backwards hit a wall and crumpled in a muttering heap on the floor, a knight's armor promptly fell on him, rendering him unconscious.

Harry opened his eyes and stared at the closed door. What had he done? He had gone into a trance, and opened his eyes in time to see the door slamming shut on Dumbledore's face. Shrugging, and deciding to explore that thought later, Harry turned around and left Hogwarts via the forbidden forest.

* * *

Hermione was startled into waking up when she heard muttering around her. She looked up and saw Harry's eyes closed, and raw power emanating form his soul. She gasped as she thought of a summoning, one that she had had the misfortune of seeing in her last year. She voiced her doubt to Dumbledore who looked positively terrified at the thought.

Suddenly, Harry's eyes opened and he glanced all around the room, before his eyes died down once more. Hermione looked at Dumbledore, and saw the man in deep concentration, Hermione's brows furrowed up at this, as she wondered what he was doing, they could not afford to alienate Harry further.

He was shocked as she saw his expression change from concentration to pain, intense pain. It was as if he was being subjected to the cruciatus curse. But to the give the man some credit, he did not utter a single syllable. This expression faded away soon as well, only to be replaced by dawning comprehension and horror. Soon this flickered away too, and the man fell down, crashing into his chair. Hermione looked horrified at the shell lying on the chair, she looked over at Harry, who was glancing around the room. She was about to say something when Harry seemed to produce a scythe out of thin air, a scythe! As he walked towards the door, a woman opened the door and promptly fainted crying, "Grim Reaper!" With the words firmly fixed in her head, Hermione began to go over all implications of the sentence and realized that Harry did, indeed, look like a grim reaper.

Dumbledore began to get up and looked around, muttering to himself. Something about him misunderstanding Harry again, alienating him again. He glanced up and said, "He overheard us talking about the possible implications of his disappearance. He doesn't believe in any of us any more. He is also definitely not a deatheater. I don't know how I know, I just do. Get him, fast, he's running away." Dumbledore said very softly, his blue eyes deadly serious, without a trace of the usual twinkle.

They sprinted down the stairs towards the entrance hall, they had to reach soon, or they would lose Harry again, though this time, forever. Upon reaching the massive entrance doors, they saw Harry standing right behind them chanting, then lift his scythe up and bring it crashing down to the ground. The doors swung shut just as Dumbledore reached them. This unfortunate timing resulted in him finding himself in severe pain under a pile of armor on the far side of the hall.

"_Alohomara!_"Hermione yelled. The door did not so much as budge. The others, seeing Hermione fail, decided to try together. "_Alohomara!_" they all yelled together. Eight rays of red light crashed onto the door, which did not so much as shudder.

Realizing that nothing could be done about the door, they all dropped to their knees, slowly, one by one, clasping their hands together in prayer. Sobbing uncontrollably. Dumbledore was the only one who wasn't, seeing as he was buried under several hundred kilograms worth of metal.

* * *

Harry looked at the massive tree skeptically. How could this tree lead to the said paradise? Shaking his head, and wondering how he divined its location, he entered the gap in the tree and immediately felt something attacking his mind. He growled and shook his staff cursing. He looked around and sent hexes at anything that moved. Seeing the attack would not die down soon, Harry dug into his conscious once again and decided to fight this being with everything he had.

As he moved around in his mind, he could not find the aura of the responsible party. Frowning, he continued to look around, searching in vain for the perpetrator. Realizing he could not, he decided to search for something else, namely the area which was weakest in his mind. That would obviously be the place where the mysterious being was attacking him from. Finally he found it, he was stunned at how weak his defenses were in that area. This being must be powerful indeed. He felt the defenses grow weaker and weaker, he decided to attack the area around the fault, and while doing so, he encountered irresistible power.

He felt himself drawn into the void, and couldn't stop moving closer and closer to it. Realizing what was happening, he fought harder and harder, he would not lose himself to this unknown beast. He lost the battle and found himself inside a being older than Dumbledore, indeed older than Hogwarts. Stunned he tried to explore it, but a massive force restricted his movements. Not knowing what to do, he settled on staying there, attacking the being with all his might.

IT IS POINTLESS TO ATTACK ME! YOU SHOULD JUST GIVE UP AND SUBMIT YOURSELF TO ME. YOU ARE INVADING SOMEONE ELSE'S PROPERTY. A voice seemed to rumble out from all around him, emanating from the very force that restricted him.

Nonsense! This cavern is meant to submit to the strongest person that ever passes through it till death takes him. I am obviously the strongest to have ever passed the gap, submit! Harry roared internally, not pausing to wonder from what unholy technique he had divined this information.

MMMM. YOU ARE WELL READ. BUT ENOUGH. THE STRONGEST PERSON CAN ONLY CLAIM ME IF HE KILLS THE PREVIOUS OWNER. OR IF THE PREVIOUS OWNER SUBMITS TO HIS AUTHORITY. The voice rang out again, giving Harry the beginnings of a terrible headache.

Rubbing his temples, Harry responded. Said person is already in my power, he will be arriving shortly. You will let me enter, or face his wrath and mine when he does come. Harry suddenly felt the restraints wane and his mind growing larger and larger, expanding beyond what he thought possible. The being released Harry and he flew back into his own head before his conscious grew too large and escapedforever. He entered his mind and smiled, he was no longer being attacked. He looked down and scornfully eyed the decaying ladder before him. Knowing that he had no better alternative, he descended using the ladder and ended up in a massive room, luxuriously furnished. He didn't bother to look around, deciding to just sit till the dementor and the man he saved arrived.

Soon enough they arrived, dementor first, followed a few minutes later by the man. Harry grinned and entered the man's thoughts, yes he was definitely who he thought he was, and innocent too. He was about to leave the pitiful man's mind when he heard one thought - But why? –

"So many reasons. You are innocent." Harry said, smiling. Dropping his hood to reveal his face as the boy spun around and stared at him.

"You…" He managed.

"Me." Harry responded. "I heard you wanted to meet me?" Harry said.

"How… how did you know?" The boy asked stuttering.

"I have my ways. But enough has been said on the matter. I would like to welcome you to my humble abode… Malfoy"


	4. Recollections

Chapter 4 – Recollections

"Potter... How unexpected…" Draco smirked.

"Malfoy... How unprecedented…" With that, both of them burst into a high cackle that echoed around the room. "I thank you for this … place, by the way, I'm sure it will prove to be quite useful," Harry said with a sneer. "Yes, this **is **the cavern you know," he said in response to Malfoy's unasked question. "Let's just say... i repossessed it, if you look around, you'll find it much grander than you left it." He gestured to the cavern's grandeur.

"So Potter, is there any reason for me to stay? Or can i be on my way?"

"Well…" Harry awkwardly began, "The battle lines have been set, and the war has begun. It's going to be brutal free for all, corruption vs. evil vs. pride vs. justice. All stations have been manned, now its time for you to choose a side. I have chosen mine and I comprise the fourth army – justice, and there is none of that in this world. You choose – me, the powerful yet evil Voldemort, the bungling and hopelessly pathetic Fudge or the meddling and unbelievably naïve Dumbledore. If you don't choose me, your memory will be wiped and you will be found in Dumbledore's office with an order, signed by me, for veristarserum. Your innocence will be proven and you can choose whichever side you wish… I give you one minute in which to decide your fate." Harry stopped and picked a comfy sofa behind him and sat down, his emerald eyes fixed on Draco who was staring open eyed at Harry.

"So… you have decided to go against your former friends, against your former allegiance. I just have to say that I never expected this…" he paused, seemed to think about it and said, "Potter."

"Make no mistake, I'm pleased, it's just that I never expected it. When it comes down to the choice, I don't need to think about it. Earlier I swore never to join Voldemort's ranks, and I won't. The side I thought I would join, Dumbledore's is not fit to have me anymore. The day I told Voldemort I wouldn't be following in my father's footsteps, that old fool threw me into Azkaban for the simple fact that my father was a deatheater. Fudge… no one in their right mind would follow him. His is a losing and ignoble cause. That leaves only one choice, and as much as i detest it, i feel it's the only way i can survive the coming years." Malfoy said, barely managing to get the words out of his unwilling mouth.

"The situation isn't very pleasant for me either Malfoy, but i make do with what i can. I am no longer Gryffindor's golden boy, you put a foot out of line and I'll have you skinned alive." Harry snarled, but nonetheless, though reluctantly, stuck his hand and, and Malfoy duly obliged by shaking it. For the first time Harry looked over the cavern in which he was obliged to stay till Hogwarts began.

As far as he could see, the entire left side of the cavern was lined with shelves upon shelves stuffed with books. There was enough knowledge stored here to satiate the world for centuries to come. It was filled with lore from every civilization that ever existed, or at least that was what Harry gleaned from the many languages he could see. Harry looked around knowing that the cavern had only revealed half of itself to him, though not knowing **how **he knew, as he was not powerful enough yet. He realized that he was currently in a lounge area of sorts, full of comfy sofas and so on.

He saw an armory full of glistening armor, what he thought was a furnace and an anvil surrounded by several different types of metal – for a brief second he smirked as he imagined himself sweating over the burning furnace shaping swords like some common laborer. He saw a large empty padded area, having no clue as to its purpose, he ignored it and continued to look around. Two luxurious beds stood proud behind the ring, close to a large stone slab jutting irregularly out of the smooth marble floor. He guessed that the toilet lay behind it. The one thing he did, notice, was that other than the toilet, there were absolutely no partitions throughout the cavern.

"Well Malfoy, you've seen a part of this place before, so you know how valuable it is. After all, we need to train ourselves if we're going to win this war." He said, still stunned by the brilliance of the cavern.

"Quite." Malfoy said hiding an ironic smile, after all, who would've thought the two bitter enemies would ever work together.

Harry looked at Malfoy one last time, before deciding to head for a shower ("Remember my warning Malfoy, i will not give it again.") The bathroom, he saw, was quite large and luxuriously done, if only covered from the rest of the cavern by one large stone slab. It was around a foot below the cavern's normal floor and indented around ten feet into the cavern's wall to offer some privacy. Feeling water upon his meager body for the first time in a year, Harry could not help but smile.

* * *

Harry stopped his insane laugh and looked around him, no one bothered to conceal their looks of anger and … betrayal. Oh, the irony of it all, Harry couldn't help it and descended into a sporadic fit of cold laughs again. All around him his former friends were cursing him and trying their best to insult him. Nothing penetrated Harry's ears, he heard nothing and saw nothing but pure, bright red, and suddenly he didn't see anymore, Dumbledore's stunner ensured that.

When Harry awoke, he looked around him and realized that he was being held in a relatively large holding cell, obviously the only place they could get on such short notice or Harry obviously wouldn't have been given such luxurious quarters. Smirking as these thoughts flashed through is mind, he didn't see the scores upon scores of owls racing down towards his cell. When he finally saw the owls he mouth dropped open, the gap was large enough for a baby whale to fit through, how so many owls fit through the gaps between the bars he never found out. Nor did it stay on his mind for very long as owl after owl, lashed past his face, taking no care not to scratch him as they swept fast, dropping all kinds of letters on his lap. Before all the owls had completed their task and delivered the letters, the first of the Howler's exploded and once again shook Harry out of his thoughts. By the time all the owls had left, the noise created by the thousands of Howler's all yelling their proverbial lungs off at him at the same time was deafening. Muggles kilometers away complained to the authorities about nasty inconsiderate kids who partied the night away, not letting decent people have a good night's sleep.

Only a few letters remained after the onslaught of the burning Howlers, most of these contained some sort of a curse or potion which were released on Harry's unsuspecting face the second he opened them, causing mayhem in the now cramped cell once again. There were only two letters left after all the explosions died down. Harry gingerly opened the larger of these, it was a letter from Remus, his former teacher and friend, the best friend of his deceased parent's and godfather. Hoping for some respite, Harry was brutally let down. The letter went on about how Harry had betrayed his parents, who had sacrificed themselves for him, how he should have realized when Harry attempted to lead Sirius and his friends to their destruction in the Ministry of Magic dealing a crippling blow to The Order of the Phoenix. How he had betrayed his godfather, who had also sacrificed himself for Harry. The letter admonished Harry for the choices he made during his short life.

Had anyone seen Harry's face at that moment, they could very well have believed that Harry had indeed committed the murders and worked for Voldemort. The look of pure fury on his face would have given Satan a heart attack had he seen it, and sent Hercules scurrying away like a little mouse. Unfortunately, it did not deter the traitors from causing him more pain and grief, then again they did not really see his face as at that moment it was buried in the letter, his hands grinding it away with all the force of steel. When they did not get his attention immediately, they decided the best way to do so would be to fling a hard book at his hidden head.

The book hit Harry's head just as the paper burst into flames, soon enough the book was engulfed in flames as well and burnt to a cinder near Harry's feet who did not bother to move away from the source of pain, his nerves had already been numbed, by the cuts and other burns all over him by this point. He slowly looked up, revulsion hate clearly etched all over his face, and glared at them, wondering why they bothered to meet him before he met the inevitable.

"Potter, don't get your hopes up, we aren't here to save or anything even close to that. We, are just so angry about how you betrayed us, and tried to kill us so many times, that we decided to show you what we really thought of you." Ron spat, and gestured to Hermione, who along with Neville and Ginny, dropped a trunk, which Harry immediately recognized as his own.

"Harry, we wouldn't want you to miss this, so we decided to give you a clear view of wat we are about to do." Hermione said grinning insanely, and with a flick of her wand and a few whispered words, a hole opened in the wall outside Harry's cell, and the wall of Harry's cell turned transparent, giving the beautiful view of a large, obviously deep lake stretching towards the horizon. With another flick of her wrist, Harry felt his head violently jerked to the side, as his eyes were forced open and directed towards the hole."We are currently in the oldest wizarding prison still standing, it's in Wales, and as you can see, near a very beautiful lake. Precisely why, it's no longer a prison, it's too nice, you are going to Azkaban in about two hours anyway. I just wanted to show you where a certain book of yours is going to go." With a lot of flourishing, Harry's invisibility cloak and a certain album were removed. Harry's hate filled eyes, widened with disbelief.

"Yes Harry, this is the album of your parents, your only one if I'm not very much mistaken, and as you know, I'm never mistaken." She said cruelly. Taking the book, she wrapped the invisibility cloak around it, and uttering words in Latin, bound it together with invisible ropes and weighed it down, adding invisible rocks to it. Smiling malevolently, she put a magnifying charm on Harry's wall so all he could see was the lake. Smirking she flung the two through the hole in the wall and down, down towards the lake.

From the transparent space, Harry could see the large splash created when the book hit the water and watched silently as it sunk to the unknown depths of the lake. "I'm sure neither your parents nor Sirius will want to be in pictures in a book belonging to you. I'm sure they'd be happy with what I've done, and I got rid of your otherwise indestructible invisibility cloak." She broke off into chuckles and Harry began to wail, unable to keep his misery hidden under the wall of hate any longer.

"Hedwig." Was all Ron said as he enlarged something in his palm, smirking as an owl cage appeared, with a very disgruntled owl in it. He grinned and pulled a broom out of Harry's trunk, his Firebolt. Consumed by unfounded rage, Ron magically attached Hedwig to the Firebolt, and with a gesture, Hermione changed the view on Harry's wall, so he was forced to see the sky. Smirking, he set the tail of the Firebolt on fire with a simple _incendio_, and threw it out of the hole, watching as it flew off into space, slowly destroying itself, the fire drawing startlingly close to Hedwig.  
Long after he lost sight of her, Harry, with his magnified vision was forced to helplessly watch as she slowly was set afire, and burst to a crisp, her body tumbling towards the ground, out of his line of sight. His wail grew only louder now, drowning out the old DA group's laughter.

Muttering a curse under her breath, Luna turned Harry sharply around, and resorting to Muggle means, she, Neville and Ginny, with the help of three hammers, completely ransacked Harry's trunk and flung the pieces cruelly at him, adding to the scars and cuts that already plastered his body. With that all five of them left, taunting Harry as they did so. "Remember Harry, you brought this all on yourself, you're worse than a deatheater, you turned your back on your friends, you tried to use underhanded methods to kill us. You only got what you deserved." Ginny said, deriding the sobbing wreck, that once stood for all the Wizarding World's hope.

"You call me worse than a death eater." Harry spat out, hoarsely, "but at least that doesn't make me one of them. You on the other hand could easily be deatheaters, the sort of torture you just completed was just as bad as any cruciatus." Ron let out a cry of pure rage and rushed towards Harry's cell and kicked him through the bars, until Harry bled through his mouth and was lying on the floor completely unconscious. Hermione walked over at spat at the prone body before stalking away with Ron in tow.

Dumbledore looked at the scene sadly through his scrying glass. He had never expected them to stoop as low as that. Not that Harry didn't deserve it, he just didn't believe they would taint their innocence over such a waste of a human. He was disappointed owing to the fact that he had allowed another promising wizard to go over to the Dark, disappointed as now the world had no saviour. Trying to redeem himself in his own mind, he decided that the prophecy would eventually prove itself right. Maybe Harry had been destined to become another Dark Lord and in the fight for world domination, one of the two Dark Lord's would kill each other. Either way, he had to meet Harry before he was shipped off to populate another of Azkaban's cells. He sighed when he looked at the destruction the letters had wreaked in the cell, the injuries the covered Harry, and at the fact that he would not be able to talk to Harry. Deciding that since Harry was unconscious, none of this would make a difference to him, so he slowly told the unconscious body everything that was raging around in his aging mind. Just before he left, he dropped a copy of the Daily Prophet in the cell, knowing it would torture Harry's mind when he was in Azkaban.

So it was that when Harry woke up a few minutes before he had to go to the dread prison, he read the last letter he got, form Hagrid. The letter sent relief spiraling through his body and made him an extremely happy person. For a second, at least, before he remembered the others, and his face was once again set with loathing. He remembered Dumbledore's words, the ones he had said thinking Harry was unconscious, when he had been feigning it, hoping to avoid further punishment. Those words also gave him hope, the world might self-destruct before he lost his sanity. With that grim thought racing around in his mind, he made his way proudly to Azkaban. The aurors were stunned by the behavior, watching a man take his fate in Azkaban willingly, not groveling like pathetic slime, like all the other freaks that were sent to Azkaban.

Of course, they did not confess their feelings even to each other, and in their attempts to forget the traitorous thoughts, they attacked Harry, again and again, beating him, stunned that he did not even attempt to fight back. He took the hits, soundlessly and stared off into space, completely ignoring them. Eventually, disgusted that they had failed, they flung his battered body into his cell, smiling as his head hit the hard stone with a sickening crack. Without a backward glance, they shut the door locked it with the strongest locking charm they knew, the one they had been instructed to use by the Ministry, and quickly hurried off the island onto the boat awaiting their arrival to take them far away from the dementors.

When Harry finally opened his eyes, he was surprised by the fact that he felt fine, apart from all the physical pain, he looked warily around his tiny prison cell, less than a sixth the size of the one he had previously been in. He wondered why he hadn't experienced the mind-numbing effects of the dementors yet. Before he could fully process the thought, he was hit by a powerful onslaught of memories, every one that he had no wish to remember. They played like some broken tape, again and again in his mind. For the first few days, he could do nothing but think of everything he hoped not to think about, reliving his multitude of painful memories.

Finally, a semblance of the rage he had once felt, fleetingly poked its way into his mind, remembering the betrayal, this thought grew exponentially, it fought off all the other things that hovered in and dominated his mind. Eventually, once again, it conquered his soul, he only felt fury and hate. His anger only grew as he realized that the Ministry had put him in high security, there was hardly enough space between the thick iron bars, there wasn't a single window, and the wall was thick, at least a foot thick. In the beginning he had thought that this was a normal cell, but then he realized that this was not the case, another cell, directly in front of him, as if to mock him further, had a window, and thin bars. The most distinguishing difference however was the fact that there were two dementors who never left his cage, they were positioned there and seemed to love it, a fresh victim for them to devour.

As he looked across the room, he saw an insane prisoner was randomly pulling his waist length hair while kneeling down, with his head touching the floor. His room looked so much more comfortable than Harry's own, and it was then that Harry decided that Fudge had put him here on purpose, he wanted to make Harry feel worse than he would with two dementors constantly hovering around him. Once more, spasms of rage overtook him.

Eventually, however, the fortification of his hate fell under the dementor's seige, and the dementors were more than happy to capitalize on his weakness, feeding of the scores of bad memories he had that were locked up inside his mind. Everyday brought Harry closer and closer to insanity. Once again he was saved by a small feeble memory, as he remembered the betrayal. This time it was his innocence. This gave him most confidence. He decided that if Sirius, his godfather, could stave off the dementors for twelve years with this one thought, then he could as well. With this one thought driving him, he managed to keep the dementors at bay. Make no mistake, his mind was still plagued by ghastly memories, but he was still sane and maintained a weak control over his thoughts.

As time passed he grew in confidence, he harnessed his earlier rage and channeled it, using it to drive his willpower forwards, against the never-ending tide in the form of the dementors. Soon he remembered occlumency and tried to use it, but failed miserably. He began to fall back into the clutches of insanity as the waves drew back again, feeding of the despair caused by his failure. One day when he had almost given up all hope, his occlumency skills suddenly returned, stronger than they had ever been. Harry did not know how, nor did he bother to waste time or energy wondering how. He simply tried to make it ever stronger.

He could block out the dementors thoroughly and completely soon and had nothing to fear from them anymore. His consciousness slowly returned to him. He power waxed stronger and stronger. After half a year from the date of his imprisonment, he realized that the walls that protected his mind were no longer assaulted frequently – the dementors were no longer stationed outside his prison. Apparently, the Ministry thought him insane, something he did not intend to change. Soon his mental power's grew so powerful, he could mentally assault any dementors that came close to him.

Learning fast, they left him alone and did not bother to attack him anymore. They only approached his cell to quickly fling the food in and get away as fast as they could hover. Harry loved the transformation, as he could finally do something other than concentrate on his occlumency and legilimency skills. He looked at his body. The scars had faded away until they were barely visible, six months could do that to the nastiest of scars. But he had become even thinner than he used to be earlier, he could not easily be mistaken for an undead corpse. His waxy skin clung so tightly to his bones that, they could easily be made out, the dim light in the prison made his skin shine a pale light. To all the world he looked like a zombie. His thick, knotted, tangled hair, clung to his face and had grown to well below his shoulders, but rarely reached that length, seeing as they were so tangled that they hardly passed his shoulders. His nails had grown long and sharp, ending in hard points. The faint outline of a beard was growing on his face, it became thicker with every passing day, just like his powers were. He forced his mind to ignore all physical pain, and the limitations that came with it.

Finally he decided his powers were strong enough, and used his mind to explore the prison - searching for anything with which he could make a focus – something with which to cast spell. He was stunned when he detected another powerful presence residing in the prison. Its power far exceeded that of the few, generally low level and adequately weak, aurorsl, who had horrible job imposed on them. Harry decided to explore with caution from then on, but kept a mental note of the location. Eventually he found wood, something he had searched far and wide for – as only wood could contain a core and control it. He grew ecstatic that day, the day that marked the beginning of his ninth month in exile.

Finally he began to expand his mental powers, he tried to manipulate physical objects with them. He was pleasantly surprised when he found out that this was indeed the case, though he could not do much apart from lift the tray of food from the bars to the back of the cell, a paltry four feet. However, with all his effort and willpower stressed on this one point, he could eventually do much more – fling rocks at passing aurors from totally different directions, making them curse and scan the entire floor, searching for the guilty criminal. They never found one, they always passed Harry's cell, thinking him insane, they always left frustrated and angry. Harry, just smirked in the dim light and was never noticed.

The day finally came when he felt he was strong enough to break out of the hellhole. He knew he needed a staff or a wand, and on a whim decided to make a sword too, so much easier to inflict pain on a traitor with. With everything gathered, and done, he walked out of the hole in his destroyed cage and left Azkaban, without so much as a backward thought.

* * *

By the time he had gone through his year in hell, he was out of the bathroom, fully clothed and not knowing it. He was dwelling on the betrayal, and felt the old fury consume his body again. He fingered his belt and felt the sharp blade of the sword, it gave him little comfort. Draco finally chose this inopportune moment to speak, "Potter, I've been meaning to talk to you…" He was cut of when Harry suddenly spun around, his actions dictated by his old hate, before realizing what he was doing, he unsheathed his sword and swung it at the man in front of him with all the might he possessed. 


	5. Retribution

Chapter 5 – Retribution

Severus Snape was a man who rarely entertained much fear. Quite the opposite, he usually doled it out in generous proportions to the unfortunate souls he taught. As he felt his forearm burn, however, he barely managed to conceal his trepidation. There was no one around to witness his moment of weakness, but Snape's inner demons refused to allow him to outwardly show any weakness. Paranoia was the closest friend he had ever had, and he now clung to it tighter than ever before.

Sighing, he prepared to leave the rundown hovel he called home. "Wormtail!" he snarled, "I have been summoned. Stay inside or I'll be more than happy to turn you over to the Dark Lord… after a few choice curses of my own, of course." He smirked and slashed his wand at a seemingly random bookcase, pleased when he heard a crash and a squeal, proving that the rat would be sufficiently… occupied. With a last look at the doorway, he grabbed a vial and briskly pulled on a black robe and stalked out of the house.

* * *

Voldemort glared at anything that moved, as he waited for Snape. He snarled and sent a curse out at random, catching a new recruit and turning her blood acidic, a glimmer of satisfaction flickered across his deformed face as he listened to the unfortunate woman's howls of pain. The smarter deatheaters had avoided the room like the plague, knowing full well that when the Dark Lord got angry, agony was not very far away.

How the brat had managed to escape Azkaban, demolishing everything that came in his path Voldemort couldn't possibly fathom. His carefully thought out plan had come crashing down around his flat ears. Tnstead of permanently eradicating a menace, he had, seemingly, empowered his greatest foe. The deatheaters would feel pain as they had never before felt, they would rue the day Potter managed to flee hell on earth.

So Voldemort sat on his throne, probing his mind, searching for the most painful tortures he knew, _crucios_, while prodigiously painful,would not do for this most heinous of tortures

* * *

The fortress loomed, tall and forbidding in front of him, and this time, he couldn't hide his shiver of apprehension. The sentinel smirked as he saw Snape arriving, "I doubt we'll see you again Severus, the Dark Lord is in **quite **the mood." Sniggering he muttered a complicated phrase under his breath, while waving his wand in an intricate pattern. The gate slowly, shuddering all the way, pulled itself off the ground, allowing Snape passage into the Dark Fortress.

Hearing a howl of pain in the distance Snape felt another involuntary shudder course through him as he furtively glanced around, searching for the wail's source. Groaning, Snape steeled himself and pulled his impressive occlumency shields together, it would not do to show any weakness in front of the dark lord. He wondered how events had so rapidly spiraled out of control.

* * *

"Rise, my loyal potions master," hissed the dark lord. "Why have you come to me unasked? You wish to risk exposing your loyalties?" There was a distinct edge in his voice, betraying his anger.

"My Lord, I apologise for my untimely visit, but I have devised a plan, my lord. A plan that I believe can greatly aid us in our cause." Snape said, slowly, but surely.

"_Crucio_." Voldemort let the curse run for a few minutes before lifting it. "Do not stall Severus, it is unbecoming of one of your stature and an immense waste of my time. Tell me of this stratagem."

"S..Sorry my lord. I propose that instead of sending incompetent fools after Potter, we turn his friends against him. I propose that we divide and conquer, my lord".

"You deride my methods Severus?" Voldemort softly said, "However, your idea is intriguing, continue."

Breathing a sigh of relief Snape did just that, "After listening to one of the Potter brats many rants, I realized that he is very unhappy at his summer home, with the Dursleys. The house is purely muggle, my lord, and has no wizards standing guard - "

"Stop right there Severus, I know of this house. Did you really think I wouldn't? But the blood wards Dumbledore has erected are formidable, and will prevent any attack."

"My lord, I do not propose to attack the house, merely send in two deatheaters there in the guise of… muggles," Snape spat the word out in distaste.

Snape then proceeded to elucidate his plan without further preamble, for fear of inciting his lord's deadly wrath. He spoke of how the deatheaters would befriend the forlorn Potter, go to Ottery St, Catchpole when he did, draw him out of the Weasley's house with yells and frame him.

"Do you think Dumbledore to be a fool? He will **never** fall for it!" Voldemort snarled, and just as he was about to raise his wand, Snape suddenly spoke out. "My lord, I have recently read about a potion that works similarly to a _confundus_ charm."

"You dare interrupt me?"

A few minutes later, Snape staggered to his feet and hastily fell back on his knees and stuttered, "I'm so.. sorry my… lo.. lord - " stopping abruptly when Voldemort slashed his wand at Snape.

* * *

A behemoth of a door, made of yew and reinforced by a solid metal matrix, covered the entire corridor; it was indeed a daunting sight. Two onyx statues stood watch on either side, each holding a staff at attention, wary obsidian eyes peered out, keeping their eternal guard. As one, each statue thumped their staves on the ground, which rumbled under the force, and the door slowly swung open.

Inside, a room shrouded by the deepest of shadows, was revealed; two red eyes gazed hatefully outwards. A man walked in, with slow, measured steps, head bowed respectfully low. The doors slammed shut as soon as crossed the threshold; the impact almost sending him stumbling to the floor. The man waited edgily in the absolute darkness, not daring to look back at the imposing eyes.

"I have, in my hands, a cursed blade," the eyes hissed dangerously. "Tell me why I shouldn't bury it in your disgraceful body, and rid humanity of the filth that you are."

The man scarcely managed to hold his tongue, having seen such scenes before, but never before had the eyes shone with such a fell light, their fury knowing no bounds.

All of a sudden, the torches in the hall lit as one, bathing it with a black light; the eyes, however, remained cloaked in shadow. The hall was decorated with the same morbid décor as the door and passageway before. Shackles lined the walls on the sides of the hall, most of them occupied by corpses in various states of decay and disembowelment. Several fresh corpses were strewn across the floor, and so were a few poor dying souls. The man wasted no pity on them, realizing his own life was in mortal peril.

The ceiling was covered by a gruesome fresco depicting a battle between several magical beings, bodies littering the ground, and fed enormous beasts, the man knew they concealed defensive runes; he himself had contributed to their creation. The black stones that made up the hall were stained red with blood in so many places, that one no longer knew which one had been the original colour.

"Stop admiring the chamber and answer me!" The eyes snarled furiously, spraying saliva that sparkled in the torchlight.

The man reluctantly turned his attention back to his summoner and watched as the shadows around the eyes slowly lifted, revealing a face so hideously deformed people would hesitate to call it human. Two slits pierced the pale visage, where a nose should have been, another diagonal slash betrayed the presence of a mouth, which was now twisted into the wrathful expression that so often adorned the face. The head, devoid of all hair, glistened, and expensive black robes draped the wraith-like body. The man clutched his wand in an emaciated hand and raised it in anger, as Severus Snape remained silent, defying him.

* * *

Grindelwad's potion master had invented the _Betrügen Sie_ potion during the height of his powers, allowing him to appropriate many of the light side's strongest fighters. The potion befuddled the drinker, leeching all previous knowledge of a given instance or person. The next major incident involving said person or incident would shape the drinker's knowledge of the person, all earlier knowledge would be viewed through the incident. The potion was colourless, odourless, and virtually undetectable.

The potion, however, had several drawbacks, as its creator was assassinated before he could perfect it. It took an entire year to brew, mainly to allow the various ingredients to fuse together, but also several hundred painstaking hours of intense observation, and the minutest mistake would ruin the potion. Several of the ingredients used were extremely rare and cost an arm and a leg to acquire. A powerful, or strong-willed person could overpower the relatively weak potion if they felt strongly about the issue in question. The biggest snag however was the fact that if all memory of a person should be removed, blood from said person would be needed to be mixed with the potion.

It was this potion that Snape suggested lacing the food of several key figures with. He suggested using Fudge's blatant hatred of Potter to speed to trial through, and hopefully avoid the trial altogether… After all, having the Chief Mugwump on his side should make things decidedly easier.

* * *

The next year saw Snape toiling in the Hogwart's dungeons, telling Dumbledore the truth, saying he was making potions for the dark lord. Dumbledore, of course, had no cause to doubt his spy, and decided to ease the man's workload, allowing him to complete his potion for dark lord.

Snape reveled in Dumbledore's stupidity and, deciding to take advantage of the man's lenience, was excessively nasty to all non-Slytherins. He watched with glee as Umbridge tortured Potter, as his Slytherins were bestowed more power than had ever been held by students. The only breaks he took from making the _Betrügen Sie_, he spent assaulting Potter's mind, on orders from the dark lord. He also took great pleasure in the fact that with Harry's mind weaker than ever, his friends were beginning to lose trust in him, and the wizarding world as a whole thought him to be an attention-seeking brat. His plan was coming to fruition much better than he had ever hoped.

The timing of Dumbledore's exile was excellent as that was when he would need to spend most time with the potion, and most importantly, when he would need to add Potter's blood to the potion. Umbridge had made collecting the blood impossibly easy with the abuse of her Blood Quill.

A student had managed to sneak in and catch him making his potion, but the threat was quickly disposed off, and over the next few days Snape forgot about the incident entirely.

The only sour point of the year came when the dark lord decided he needed to acquire the prophecy in its entirety and lured Potter to the Department of Mysteries. The subsequent battle led to the incarceration of five of the dark lord's finest, but most importantly it finally revealed, to the wizarding world as a whole, that the dark lord had, indeed, returned. The one positive that came out of the fiasco was that Harry's friends now doubted him more than ever, after his demented rescue attempt had led to the death of Black. This combined with his visions over the year would no doubt make the administration of the potion easier than he had ever thought.

So it was, that with little trepidation, at the end of the year feast, Snape spiked the food of the better part of the staff table, and all of Harry's friends. He even went so far as to send Lupin Wolfsbane spiked with the potion, as a gesture of truce. Though in his haste, he forgot to spike Hagrid's as he wasn't in the castle, having being earlier captured by the Ministry.

As a reward for the successful implementation of his idea, Voldemort gave Snape a potions book written by Salazar Slytherin himself, quite possibly one of the rarest books in existence. He was also given the prestigious task of being the one to kill Dumbledore. Voldemort gave him a carte blanche to do the necessary.

So Snape took a force of twenty junior deatheaters and stormed Azkaban, and with the help of the dementors released the five Inner Circle members, and left the twenty juniors to be slaughtered. Placing five of their now soulless bodies in the cells the Inner Circle members had occupied.

Fudge, who had saved his office by incarcerating Potter, kept the entire operation under wraps to protect his unsteady tenure. Snape obviously couldn't tell Dumbledore what he had done, so Dumbledore was left ignorant of the most daring escape yet. With the five freed, he quickly secured their cooperation and resources, and started plotting the downfall of his saviour.

* * *

Six hooded figures stood at the edge of a forest, all of them intent on brining the wards protecting the area down. Another man, from inside the wards, cast his own ward, impeding the passage of the magical presence in the area, forcing it to stay inside a manageable boundary. Outside interference at this point would ruin the entire procedure. After an hour of complicated spellwork, they tpre down the wards in the gap and quickly ran through, allowing the wards to slowly slide back in place as they left.

"Remember, no more magic," the inside man hissed under his breath. "I should be able to open the doors if the wards don't sense your presence." So the seven figures swiftly made their way to the door.

Then the, so far, perfectly executed plan started to fall apart. Upon reaching the door, they realized it was jammed shut. After several minutes of cursing and hurling hexes at the inside man, the group settled on opening the door themselves, using spells of ever increasing complexity. An hour or so later, the door had not come any closer top opening and the group's frustration showed clearly, as they threw stealth to the wind and started flinging explosive curses at the door and walls around it, one even tried transfiguring the ground to water.

Under the intense barrage of spells, the door eventually gave one last shudder and showered the group with a hail of splinters and dust. By the time the dust settled and the seven prepared to enter the castle, they found themselves face to face with their furious target and a dozen other witches and wizards. The wizened target raised his wand before anyone could react and brought the wards crashing down on the intruders, hurling them from the castle grounds and onto a painful heap in the forest.

"Should you ever enter these grounds again, I will not be as merciful Severus!" Dumbledore's amplified voice roared.

* * *

"Sadly you are far too useful to be disposed off," Voldemort said softly. "Do not fail me again, or the consequences will be… much harsher." The skeletal figure slowly rose and gracefully left, heading for the emergency meeting he had called, leaving the broken body of his potions master behind.

As Snape lay on the floor, his wand just beyond his grasp, thoughts of revenge swirled through his mind. All his misfortune could be placed squarely on one man's shoulders. "You will pay Potter," Snape muttered. "You have defied me one last time, and that is a promise!" His voice grew in volume as his declaration proceeded until finally the oath echoed across empty walls and dead ears. "Let the tortured souls be my witnesses, I will have my vengeance." Gaining strength from his oath, he dragged himself to his wand and started the process of healing himself, knowing no hospital would welcome him again; his loyalties had finally been revealed. After the basic healing spells had been cast he downed the potion he had brought along for the torture he knew he would experience.

Once he could stand, he waved his wand in an intricate pattern and slashed his left wrist with a bright purple lance of magic and started chanting in Latin. The skeletons chained to the walls started to glow, their shackles vibrated with increasing intensity. Snape's chant continued, his voice growing in volume to be heard over the din caused by the shackles, sweat glistening on his sallow skin, and greasy hair. As blood poured from his wrist onto the floor, it began to organize itself into a convoluted rune. The rune grew in size, extending in all directions, hissing as it burnt its way through any obstacles, his already pallid features grew even paler. His eyes glinted with power, and his robes swirled in the powerful magic. As one all the shackles snapped, as the vibration got too intense for them to sustain. The freed skeletons slowly floated towards Snape, joining hands to form an impenetrable ring that finally stopped the flow of the blood, an eerie blue light glowing in their sockets.

As Snape finally stopped his chant, with one last shouted word, the skeletons suddenly slumped and fell to the floor, once again shattering the hall's silence. Snape recoiled as one of the skulls soared towards him, almost crushing his chest on impact. He knew the imprint would remain for the rest of his life, forever reminding him of the curse he willingly accepted for revenge. With the ritual complete, Snape almost glowed with power, a small smile poised on his face.

"I will have my retribution, Potter," he whispered and with a swish of his robes, stalked out of the hall, a few flicks of his wand repairing the shackles that ensnared the corpses once more.


End file.
